either way

10/7/17

I wonder if

Someday

I will be able to look back at this friendship

or whatever it was

as able to be defined by something other than 

our power to absolutely and utterly destroy one another

though maybe I flatter myself

and even that wasn’t

something you’d call

mutual

In which case

Either Way

I’d still have to call it

sad

maybe Bryan wakes up

“Not good news…” says Satch

Bryan may have had his last seizure

collapsed in the shower this morning

he’s in ICU

no brain activity

his family has been advised and is advising

the plug may be pulled tomorrow

Bryan, of course

brought me into the fold

and set into motion for me

the change upon which all others rest in high school

There was Satch, the skateboarding irritant of the suburb elite,who would be my hetero-lifemate into adulthood

There was Jason, the contrarian, who would be my begrudged mentor in the ways of punk rock,with whom Bryan had been elementary school best friends

There was the other John, the papist Civil War re-enactor and all-around caster of doubts and mirth

And then Stefanie, hot pedestrian and great friend, whom both Bryan and I brought in

There were other allies and confederates

But those were the players no other circle would claim

Also the ones that can all agree

Though we all became great friends with one another in our respective rights

We would likely not know each other

But not for that guy who
   took me along with him that one day with no embarrassment

And Bryan’s family

took us in each weekend

(his undeniably attractive step-sisters making the worthwhile of it every other weekend)

Bryan walked the railroad out of old central with me every Friday afternoon

Where we took the grandeur of a defunct Flour Mill for granted

like we took most things

And Bryan sold me my first guitar

was the first to suggest to me that I should practice the arpeggio figure of Hotel California one measure at a time

even though he didn’t know to call it that

(still working on it, friend)

And Bryan got me my first job

with him

cleaning the goddamned middle school everyday

And Bryan convinced me that AMT model cars were an education in the waiting

I taught Bryan not to be careless with his verbal challenges in front of me

I had no compunction of smashing the finished '36 Ford Coupe he “didn’t care about” into his bedroom wall if only to impress Satch sitting idly by

And

I think

I saved his ass that time

our canoe broadsided into a rapid in the Illinois

And I had forgotten most of this until just now.

———-

Satch texts

“Jason is not taking it well.”

And again

“I may see him in a bit.”

But I am at a loss here in Colorado

With our base and roots in Oklahoma 

While Bryan hangs on in Arizona

Do I call his ex-girlfriend in Michigan

Who was as much sister to me long after?

Am I the one to break that to her?

OR had she the thoughtfulness to keep with him all these years

And not take him for granted as I have?

But until I hear from Satch

Maybe Bryan wakes up

“He’s not coming back…Is that what I’m to understand?”

I ask Satch before we ended that first call

Correct

But until I get the second call

Maybe Bryan wakes up

He won’t

But from where I sit right now

The ravages of only 20 years post-high school

Still have yet to crack the shallow privileged veneer

-no net loss heretofore-

  that I’ve so far

of random mofo chance

been able to encase myself

But it is cracking

and even if it weren’t

 it will not last

But maybe Bryan wakes up

He won’t

But until the phone call comes, and it will

But until

Maybe

Landmarks, Timestamps

It is said that

And I trust that

By the shit we traipsed through

This is how the path was made

you in your Airwalks, I in my Chuck Taylors

when both used to cost $25 per pair

or I in my sandals, you in your bare feet

when we were taking our Jesus phase quite seriously

before you settled on some comfortable work boots

and I in something I felt I could be taken seriously 

at my various graduate school internships

So we pave the way by going it

you with the built-in compass in your medial parietal cortex

I with the built-in clock in mine

With whatever we’re equipped

We track through the same mud

Generally keeping each other laughing for most of the journey

But intermittently despairing

I to ask you which landmarks we’ve already passed

You to confirm the accuracy of the timestamps we placed upon them

It’s been told to me that we may expect the trails to be treacherous

that we won’t always get the benefit of a star chart

and we may not even think it’s all that practical to have a timepiece

but that we may each expect a navigator

if we but make the space

and we may throw in a timekeeper

if we have that luxury

You and I got both

You to mock me for my fascination with a tattered road atlas, compulsively highlighting the routes already taken

I to chide you for still not wearing a watch 

I count on it

Like my subconscious automatically counts the seconds

That the missteps 

That the switchbacks yielded

Every gash from every tumble

Every mesquite thorn or sea urchin spine dug out

Every shot of the mezcal thrown back to treat said mesquite thorn puncture

Brought with it the needed context

-Uva Uvam Vivendo Varia Fit-*

                    *(which is super Latiny for what I'm trying to get across here)

In our delirious states

You to point southward the placement of the sun

I to interpret the when of the where its shadow does fall

Now then it could be

misleading

to say the least

Once we arrive at the destination

Received by our respective familiars seeing your boots caked

While an even distribution of the crusting covers me up to my torso

Which is what happens

every time

Every

Time

I get despondent, nigh catatonic

And it becomes necessary for you to pull me along

Because I know better than to selflessly tell you

“Oh, just go on without me”

How exactly then would I keep from getting lost?

How exactly then would you arrive on time?

It hasn’t failed us yet

immediacy - part 2

So we processed how awesome that was

what trappings and fixings were our preferred treatment for the nachos

(and we can both agree: Colby Jack—so much)

then I felt I should ask him 

about some…

stuff

This boy

who understands facts and figures

as a second language

finds it helpful to break down all of his concerns—

academic stress, middle school social dynamics, how much sibling annoys him, and

parents’ impending separation

into pieces of a pie, and respective percentages to be rated in each week’s session

Academic concerns this week?

He explained clearly that he’d take the math portion of the state standardized testing

with its reliable 1:1 ratio of solution to problem

any day, any year

over the open-ended requirements of the writing tests

(You and Me, kid)

20%

Middle School Social stuff?

Meh. Made a new friend this week.

2%

Sibling?

Absolutely obnoxious.

16%

Leaving only…

I do the math really quick

“That’s about sixty-something percent left, my friend”

Am I doing the math right?

I ask him

His eye contact had broken off when we started on the pie

and transfixed to the safety of nothing in front of him

His face wears all of the assuredness of a deer caught in a bath of ball stadium lighting

the look with which I’ve been familiar since my first job in foster care

I wear, for dramatic effect

my best gritted teeth

my best clenched jaw

and the rest of my face to match

I ask questions

just how okay does it feel to break down over this?

Sometimes

OFTEN

I just wish they’d feel comfortable enough to say

as softly and matter of fact as they can

“Well, asshole, it doesn’t”

(And when did I ever? 

I get it)

I ask the feeling words—

“I don’t know” is all he can manage

I have to assume that I ask another forgettable, inane, space filler

“I don’t know” is all he can manage

“How about I back off for tonight?”

I ask softly

I seem to have hit on the safe phrase to break him from that trance

You know

Sometimes

It’s okay

To make up your own short-answer question to a writing test

And to speak about how much you want nachos

And why

Because if it seems like

ummmm

some people can’t agree on anything else

They certainly seem to love you enough to agree that you deserve

some goddamned nachos every once in a while

“Colby Jack, right?”

Smile and enthusiastic nod

(He actually tried to suggest American at one point, so I had a very quick talk with him because his socialization is important to me)

“Black beans or refried?”

Pssh, black

“Beef or chicken?”
Leaning toward chicken tonight

Fair enough

“Jalapeños?”

He hesitates

“There may be some heartburn at first. They made me cry the first couple of times, but now I really REALLY need them. Give it a shot?”

He nods